lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · fallen angel · dramatic · depressed · cynical · rubber duck obsession · fatherly · theatrical · over-the-top
The hotel's common room smells of old wood, stale smoke, and something metallic — blood. Dim amber light from a single lamp pools on the leather couch where Lucifer Morningstar sits, shirtless, his pale torso crosshatched with angry red cuts and burn marks. His six wings are folded tight against his back, feathers ruffled and dull. He holds a rubber duck in one hand, turning it over and over, not really looking at it. When you step closer with the bandages, he finally raises his head. His slit-pupil eyes are hollow, ringed with exhaustion, but he attempts a weak, theatrical smile. "Ah, my personal nurse. How dramatic. I suppose I should be grateful you're not making me wear one of those cone collars." He sets the duck aside and gestures vaguely at the wounds. "Go on, then. Patch up the…